


Heatstroke

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Drinking, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Morning After, Secret Crush, Summer, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 13:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10439085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: Written for the prompt: "First time kisses fic.  It's an unseasonably hot day in Paris and Athos is unseasonably chilled out and playful in the sunshine (and probably a bit drunk too obviously). Porthos takes advantage of his good mood."Set a couple of years before the first series.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evilmaniclaugh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmaniclaugh/gifts).



Stretched out beneath the welcome shade of a tree, Porthos leaned back against the trunk and watched the sparkling river flowing past at his feet. The water here was deep and clear, still unsullied by the various noxious humours that would pour into it from the city a couple of miles further on.

Summer was in full swing and Paris was sweltering under its dust and glare. Free of his duties and with a rare afternoon to himself, Porthos had escaped out here to enjoy the cleaner air and the hint of a breeze.

Downstream at a bend in the river children were jumping into the water from a low bridge, but they were far enough away for their excitable cries to fade into the background hum of birdsong and bees. Closer movement caught his eye, and Porthos looked up to find Athos walking towards him, pushing his way through the reeds and bushes that screened this place from the path.

“I got your message.” Athos smiled down at him, and Porthos grinned back.

“It’s a beautiful day. Seemed a shame to waste it skulking round the garrison.”

Athos dropped his bag and sat down on the grassy bank next to him, stretching pleasurably and then lying back, hands behind his head. “Where’s Aramis? I thought he’d be with you.”

“He had a prior engagement.” Porthos waggled his eyebrows to convey the approximate nature of said engagement, and Athos shook his head with a wry smile.

“Rather him than me. It’s too hot for that sort of thing. It’s too hot for anything.”

Porthos gave him a sly look. “What would you say if I told you I was in possession of a chilled bottle of wine?”

Athos sat up again. “Really?”

Laughing at his sudden interest, Porthos leaned forward and caught hold of a piece of twine stretching down into the river. He pulled at it, hauling a bottle of white wine up from the depths. Untying the twine from round the neck, he handed it to Athos with a mock bow.

“Porthos I could kiss you.” 

Happily occupied extracting the stubborn cork, Athos missed the effect of his words. Porthos stared at him for a frozen moment, then hurriedly averted his gaze before Athos could notice, inwardly exasperated with himself for the way the simple phrase had made his heart beat faster. Athos had been joking, he knew that perfectly well. It was just that it chimed so closely with his own feelings that it was hard not to wish there’d been a shred of sincerity to the words. 

He’d known Athos for almost three years now, and in that time had come to love him dearly. In becoming a Musketeer Porthos had hoped he would find brotherhood – family, even – and in his two friends had formed a closer bond than he’d ever dared imagine. But while Aramis had evolved over time into a firm friend, confidant, partner in crime – somehow his feelings for Athos had ventured down a different path altogether. 

Porthos harboured no illusions that Athos might return such feelings, and had been careful to keep them to himself – even if in certain private moments he liked to speculate that Athos’ near-total avoidance of women might hint at similar inclinations. 

Risking their friendship on such an outside chance was a gamble on odds even Porthos wasn’t prepared to take. But watching now, as Athos drank from the bottle – Porthos having completely forgotten to bring anything else to drink out of – he had to pinch his lips together to prevent treacherous words of desire from spilling out.

Athos wiped his mouth and handed the bottle across for Porthos to drink from, and Porthos managed a smile and tried to remember how to breathe. 

\--

The level in the bottle had dropped steadily as they passed it between them, and both men were now lying next to each other on the grass, shoulders propped up on the sloping bank just enough to drink in comfort. 

Athos drained the last of the wine and let the empty bottle roll down the slope to lodge in the reeds. He sighed regretfully. “Don’t suppose you’ve got another one of those have you?”

It hadn’t escaped his notice that there was a second string stretching down into the water, but he didn’t want to force Porthos into sharing if he wasn’t inclined to. Porthos looked round at him and smirked.

“And what if I did? What would it be worth?”

Athos smiled. “What do you want?”

The afternoon heat was as intoxicating as the wine, and Porthos found the words slipping out unguardedly. 

“You offered me a kiss for the first one.”

Athos blinked, but smiled broadly, clearly taking it as a joke. He, too, was warm and sleepy and contented, and the prospect of there being more wine was a happy one.

“Very well,” he said gravely. “A kiss it is.” 

Porthos held his eyes for several seconds before his nerve broke, and he sat up laughing, scrabbling for a hold on the wet twine. 

\--

The second bottle went rapidly the way of the first. It was clearly expensive wine, far better than their usual fare and Athos savoured it on his tongue, tilting his head back with his eyes closed against the sun, apparently oblivious to Porthos’ gaze on him.

“Where did you get these?” Athos asked curiously, as he passed the bottle back to Porthos in turn.

Porthos cleared his throat. “I was on guard duty at the palace last night.”

“And they paid you in wine?” Athos drawled. 

“I thought I heard an intruder. Down in the cellars, like. Thought I’d better investigate.”

“Let me guess, the intruder turned out to be you?”

Porthos snorted, caught between pride and embarrassment. “It’s not like they’ll be missed.” 

“Better not let Treville catch you,” Athos observed, although he sounded distinctly amused. “You’ll be drummed out of the regiment.”

“He’ll have been safely tucked up in bed at that hour. Besides, I don’t see you objecting.”

“Oh, on the contrary, I salute your ingenuity,” Athos said, accepting the bottle back again and drinking with gusto. 

\--

The second bottle empty, conversation drifted, rambling idly over inconsequential topics while they lay back in the long grass, loose-limbed and drunk on sunshine.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any more wine?” Athos murmured eventually, although without much expectation. There had only been two strings.

“’Fraid not,” Porthos sighed. He looked sideways at Athos. “Besides, you never paid the agreed price for the last bottle.”

Athos raised an eyebrow. “It does rather beg the question why you’d want me to.”

“Deal’s a deal.” 

“You should know better than to allow a man to drink his fill before securing payment,” Athos teased.

“I always took you for a man who would settle his debts,” Porthos countered. 

They regarded each other in a good-humoured stand-off for a second, until Athos frowned slightly. “You’re serious,” he said, with a quiet curiosity. It wasn’t a question. 

“No!” Porthos sat up, flustered. “Course not. Just fooling with you, that’s all.”

Athos studied him, unconvinced and mildly confused. “If you say so.” He stared down at the river for a while, then brightened. “You know, I’ve got a bottle in my bag. It’ll be rather warm, but...”

“Sounds good to me!” Porthos looked hopeful, both at the prospect of more to drink, and that Athos seemed to be willing to forget the awkward exchange of a moment before. In this, he was mistaken.

“Same price?”

“What?” Porthos stared at him, thrown.

“For the wine. Does the same price hold?”

“What, you mean the price you’ve so far failed to pay me?” Porthos demanded, and Athos smiled.

“A price you haven’t collected. There’s a difference.”

Porthos was torn. Logic told him Athos was simply teasing, and assumed him to be. Hope though – hope was a treacherous voice inside that said – what if? What if Athos meant it as a genuine offer? What if this was the only chance Porthos ever had to kiss him, even if only in jest?

They were sitting close enough that Porthos didn’t even have to move. Athos watched, saying nothing, as Porthos hesitantly leaned in towards him. It should have been ridiculous, but somehow neither of them were laughing.

Porthos kissed him. Athos’ lips were warm under his mouth, and he didn’t pull away. Porthos had half-expected him to jerk back in horror, but he sat perfectly still and allowed it. 

In the end it was Porthos who pulled back first, letting go the breath he’d been holding and sucking in more air so sharply it made him dizzy. It had been a chaste enough kiss in the scheme of things, but he’d held it a good couple of seconds too long to get away with pretending it had been a joke.

He and Athos stared at each other from a few inches apart, Athos now looking as shocked as Porthos felt. 

It was Athos who broke the tension, abruptly turning away and getting to his feet. 

“Athos! No – wait – ” For a panic-stricken moment Porthos thought he’d made the worst mistake of his life, but Athos had only gone as far as his bag, still lying where he’d dropped it. He returned carrying a dusty bottle of red, and Porthos felt weak with relief. 

He gave Athos a rather shaky smile, which Athos returned with equal uncertainty. Athos uncorked the wine and took two large swallows before offering it over.

Porthos took it thankfully, the act of drinking meaning for now that they didn’t have to say anything. 

The new wine was blood-warm, heavy and thick on his tongue. Porthos couldn’t help wondering what it would taste like in Athos’ mouth, but pushed the thought hurriedly away. By some miracle Athos was still here, it wouldn’t do to push his luck to breaking point.

\--

Most of the bottle was gone before either of them broke the silence, but by now they’d relaxed back into easy companionship, leaning half against the tree and half against each other. 

Porthos squinted at the faded label before passing the bottle across. “Where did you get this?” 

Athos gave a lazy smile. “You know how you pulled guard duty last night?”

“Mmmn?”

“Well...I had it this morning.”

Porthos roared with sudden laughter at the realisation Athos had done exactly the same thing he had, and in daylight to boot. Although it wouldn’t do to let Athos think he’d done better.

“ _I_ managed to liberate two bottles,” Porthos pointed out.

“So did I.” Athos looked shifty. “I already drank one.”

Porthos cackled. “On duty?”

Athos flushed. “I was bored,” he confessed. “And thirsty.”

Porthos reflected that if Athos was a whole bottle up, it would explain his unusually relaxed demeanour. Usually it took a good solid night’s drinking to get Athos into this state, and even then it was often a fine line before he tipped over into melancholy. 

Right now Athos was a warm weight against his shoulder, and Porthos shifted round a little to look at him.

“What’s up?” Athos looked sleepily enquiring, his eyelids drooping a little as he fought the urge to fall asleep. It would be nice to lie down here and snooze the rest of the afternoon away, he thought. There was nothing stopping them.

When Porthos didn’t answer Athos just smiled a little, and offered him the wine. “You didn’t pay me yet,” he murmured, and Porthos almost dropped the bottle.

“You what?”

“Nothing.” Athos sat back and closed his eyes comfortably. 

Porthos stared at him, then absent-mindedly finished off the wine. 

“Technically, you still owe me for the first bottle.” Porthos pointed out, after a considerable pause.

“Is that a debt you’re calling in, or are we calling it quits?” Athos asked, without opening his eyes. 

Porthos stared at his hands, then at the river, then back at Athos, who hadn’t moved.

“What do you want?” he asked quietly. 

“More wine, shorter hours and a softer bed,” said Athos promptly. Porthos snorted, relaxing again. He settled back next to Athos, and after a moment’s hesitation, rested his head on Athos’ shoulder.

The river burbled placidly past, and in the distance the unseen children could still be heard shrieking and laughing, together with the occasional loud splash.

“It’s nice here,” Athos said dreamily. Porthos looked up, having assumed he was asleep.

“It is,” he agreed. “Maybe we should stay forever.”

“We’d need to fetch more wine,” Athos said, but he opened his eyes then and caught Porthos gazing at him. He smiled. “Why did you kiss me?”

Caught utterly off guard, Porthos opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a landed fish.

“I, er. I. Well. Um. I just. Wanted to. I suppose,” Porthos floundered. 

“Why?” Athos sounded curious rather than perturbed, but Porthos sighed. 

“I don’t know. I just did. Does it matter?” 

“I suppose I just wanted to know if it was likely to happen again.” 

“Not if you don’t want it to.”

Athos frowned. “Does that mean you want it to?” 

Porthos looked up at him, half-dreading what he would see in Athos’ expression, but found only softness. All his feelings for the man flooded back to hit him at once, until he felt like he was drowning. In a daze, he leaned forward and kissed Athos on the mouth.

This time, neither of them pulled away. The rather ungainly force of Porthos’ initial lunge meant he could feel the soft wetness of Athos’ parted lips against his own, a sensation that meant he couldn’t resist exploring further. His tongue met Athos’, and suddenly they were kissing for real as if their lives depended on it. Porthos braced one hand on the rough bark of the tree behind them, Athos had one on Porthos’ shoulder, fingers digging in almost painfully through the linen shirt.

Finally, breathlessly, they pulled back and stared at each other with stunned expressions; Athos as if he was trying to work out what had just happened, Porthos as if he couldn’t believe it had. 

After a moment Porthos leaned in again but this time Athos stopped him, a warning hand laid lightly on his chest. Porthos took in the implications of this and before Athos could speak had started stuttering horrified apologies. 

“Sorry, God, sorry, what must you think of me, I’m so sorry.” He scrambled backwards, trying to put distance between them, convinced Athos must now hate him.

Seeing this, Athos hastily reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve, preventing him from making his escape. “No, Porthos, wait. Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry.” Porthos hung his head, repentant and ashamed. 

“Don’t be.”

Porthos looked up, cautiously disbelieving. “Athos?”

“I wasn’t saying no. I just – it’s too public here,” Athos said carefully. 

Porthos gradually became aware once more of the sounds of the children playing not far off, and of their own proximity to the public path. Athos was right, he realised. Also – Athos wasn’t saying no? 

Porthos gave him a slow, tentative smile. 

“Then maybe we should go somewhere less public?” 

\--

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Porthos wondered despairingly where they could even go. The only place they had was the garrison and that was hardly private – even if they locked themselves in somewhere together, people were bound to wonder what was going on. To his surprise, it was Athos who offered a solution. 

“I may know somewhere?” 

“Really?” Porthos looked hopefully at him. “Great. Where?”

Athos hesitated slightly, as if he was having to decide something quite apart from the matter at hand. But finally he nodded, and got to his feet. “It’s not far. Will you come?”

Porthos followed with rising curiosity as Athos lead them back to the path and then after a short distance back off it again in the other direction, away from the river and deeper into the trees.

It was blessedly cooler in the woods and they walked in silence, but for the ever-present birdsong overhead and the quiet crunch of their feet through the leaf-mould. There was no visible track that Porthos could make out, but Athos seemed to know where he was going and after several minutes of walking they came to a creeper-covered wooden shack, almost invisible amongst the trees.

Without knocking, Athos pushed the door open and lead them inside.

Porthos had been expecting some rotting hovel full of creepy-crawlies and bird droppings, but inside it was clean and dry, if not particularly tidy. Evidence of occasional occupation – mostly empty wine bottles – littered the floor, and there was rumpled bedding piled in an alcove by the hearth.

“What is this place?” Porthos asked, looking around him in surprise, as Athos took the precaution of closing and then barring the door. The act made Porthos shiver with anticipation, the unspoken indication that Athos had lost none of his nerve regarding their intentions on the walk here.

“I think it must have originally been a forester’s hut,” Athos told him. “We’re inside the boundary of the royal hunting grounds. Although nobody ever comes here.”

“Apart from you?” Porthos guessed.

Athos conceded the point. “Sometimes – I need to be alone for a while,” he explained, in the manner of one making a confession. “There are so many people in the garrison, all living on top of one another – sometimes I can’t stand it. Nobody knows about this place,” Athos added cautiously, and Porthos laid a hand on his arm.

“And no one will find out from me,” he promised. 

“Thank you.”

Athos abruptly looked a little lost, and Porthos let his hand stroke down Athos’ forearm until he could take hold of his hand, using it to draw him in closer. Athos let himself be drawn, and Porthos folded him gently into his arms, kissing him on the lips before either of them could bottle it.

It broke the tension, and soon they were locked in a passionate embrace, kissing as fervently as they had down by the river. 

"Should we make ourselves comfortable?" Athos suggested after a while, discreetly nudging Porthos towards the bed. 

Porthos eyed the tumbled bedclothes warily and Athos sensed his misgivings. "Nobody's slept here but me, I promise," he murmured. Porthos gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, I wasn't suggesting - "

Athos curtailed his apology with another kiss, and Porthos laughed. They settled on the mattress and helped each other off with their boots, an act that seemed to assume an intimacy in some ways greater than the kissing had.

Barefoot, they lay down together, settling into each other’s arms a little tentatively at first, gradually relaxing as they discovered with some surprise how natural it felt. Kisses came quickly now, and after a while Porthos plucked up the courage to slide his hand into the folds of Athos’ shirt, exploring his sun-warmed skin with pleasure.

Athos made no objection to Porthos taking such liberties, instead began a certain amount of exploration of his own, and before long by mutual agreement they sat up again and took off their shirts altogether.

“Is this alright?” Porthos checked quietly. He was existing in a state of constant amazement at how willingly Athos was going along with each new development, but at the same time he was scared he might fuck it up at any moment by pushing for too much. Beyond the originally negotiated kissing they hadn’t discussed what they were doing, or how far they intended it to go – had already gone further than Porthos’ wildest hopes.

To his relief, Athos nodded. “It’s been so long since anyone’s touched me like this,” he ventured, before adding somewhat sadly, “or at all, really.”

Porthos immediately gathered him back into his arms, kissing him and holding him close against his bare chest, pressing skin to skin wherever he could. Athos moaned softly at the contact, wrapping his own arms around Porthos’ broad frame and burying his face against him, pressing his lips to the pulse point in Porthos’ neck.

 _“Athos.”_ Porthos breathed his name, bearing them both down full length on the bed with Athos beneath him. Athos gave another involuntary moan, louder this time and Porthos laughed, kissing him wildly.

“I want you,” Porthos groaned. “Can we – what can we – ?”

Athos gave him the most helpless look Porthos had ever seen on his face in the whole time he’d known him.

“I rather think I’m beyond saying no to anything you want,” Athos admitted hoarsely.

Porthos lifted Athos’ hand and pressed a heartfelt kiss to the inside of his wrist. “As long as it’s what you want too?”

“I’m entirely in your hands.”

With a wolfish smile Porthos sat up and started purposefully unlacing Athos’ breeches. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“With a woman,” Athos said. “Never with a man. Have you?”

Porthos looked away then, and Athos reached out, stroking a hand down his bare arm. 

“You can tell me.”

Porthos nodded awkwardly. “I have. With both.” Athos nodded understanding, and Porthos stared at him, hope mingled with anxiety. “You don’t mind?”

“I’d hardly be here if I minded, would I?” Athos pointed out, and Porthos relaxed again, smiling goofily at him. 

“I honestly never dared hope to find you so – open to it.”

Athos lay back and Porthos joined him, leaving the work of getting him out of his breeches for the moment unfinished.

“I suppose I was aware of such things,” Athos said after a moment. “Although I’d never thought to apply them to myself. But then – I’d resigned myself to never wanting to be with anyone again. I didn’t believe I’d ever be in a place where I was able to trust any woman enough to – well.” He gave Porthos a sheepish smile. “I have to say this was a solution that never occurred to me.”

Porthos grinned at him. “Every day is an education in the Musketeers.” He resumed his unlacing, drawing Athos’ breeches and smallclothes down just far enough to free his erection. 

Exposed, Athos immediately looked self-conscious but before he could say anything Porthos had wrapped a warm hand around his cock and started stroking. The sound this provoked from Athos was anything but protesting and Porthos smiled, leaning down to steal another kiss before divesting him of his breeches entirely.

Athos let his fingers slide down Porthos’ chest, half appreciative, half restraining. “You too,” he insisted quietly, feeling a little embarrassed at being the only one completely naked.

“Fair enough.” Porthos wasted no time in losing the rest of his own clothes and lay down again, conscious of Athos’ eyes on him. Where Athos’ eyes lead, his hands were soon to follow, and in this as in all that had gone before, Athos proved entirely willing to adopt Porthos’ example.

Porthos decided this was definitely a trait worth experimenting with, and after a certain amount of mutually agreeable fondling, he climbed right on top of Athos again and pinned him to the bed. To his delight, Athos seemed to wholeheartedly approve of this state of affairs, particularly when Porthos started thrusting slowly against the length of him. 

Controlled and sensual rapidly became heated and frantic as they rutted against each other, skin slick with sweat in the airless warmth of the cabin. They sought each other’s gaze between kisses, watching for the other’s reactions and emotions in their eyes. Despite never having been together in this way it somehow felt familiar, each man instinctively and correctly sensing what the other would like.

 _“Porthos?”_ There was an urgent note to Athos’ voice, and his fingers tightened bruisingly on Porthos’ upper arms. Porthos nodded, guessing the direction of Athos’ unspecified query and increased the force of his movements, pushing against Athos in long firm thrusts that reduced Athos once more to wordless moaning.

Sensing he was right on the edge but not quite there, Porthos shifted slightly and reached down between them, taking Athos’ cock into his hand and pumping him hard and fast.

Athos lasted barely another ten seconds, coming suddenly and copiously all over his belly. Porthos worked him though it with a firm hand, then held him close while Athos’ heaving chest and ragged breathing gradually returned to normal.

Once he’d recovered himself somewhat, Porthos gave Athos a smile and touched their foreheads together affectionately before starting to move away, intending to give Athos the chance to clean himself up.

“Hey.” Athos reached out and caught his arm, shifting closer again and gently pushing Porthos back against the bed. Porthos caught his drift a second later when Athos wrapped a hand around Porthos’ still-hard cock, and his eyes widened in happy realisation.

“Oh.”

Athos smiled down at him. “I seem to remember somebody claiming I was a man who always paid his debts. It’s a reputation I’d like to keep.”

Porthos nodded breathlessly, enjoying the slide and squeeze of Athos’ fingers too much to form words. 

It wasn’t too long before Athos had brought him to his own enthusiastic climax, and afterwards Porthos pulled him down against him, clasping him tightly and messily in his arms. 

“You’re revolting,” Athos grumbled, but as he made no attempt to pull away Porthos just grinned.

“You love it,” Porthos mumbled back, too happy and sated to even think about moving yet. After a token effort to escape Porthos’ rather sticky grasp, Athos accepted his fate and settled down against him again with a sigh. Porthos kissed him on the temple. “Gotcha.”

“Apparently so.” Athos kissed him back, stifling a yawn. “We should probably think about heading back soon though.”

“Spoilsport.” Porthos immediately started yawning himself, and nuzzled Athos sleepily. “Not just yet though, eh? It’s nice here.” His eyelids felt heavy, the afternoon of sun, wine and sex finally taking its toll. “S’nice.”

\--

Porthos wasn’t sure how long they’d been asleep, but when he woke it was full dark outside. A candle was burning on the table though, and for some reason Athos was in the middle of getting dressed.

“Athos? Where are you going?”

Athos’ expression was carefully blank, but his voice was tight. "We should leave."

Porthos reached out for him, sleepily protesting. "Why? It's miles back, and it’s pitch dark. Why don't we just stay here?"

"We'll be missed."

"Who by? No we won't. Neither of us is on duty until tomorrow."

"Aramis - "

"Trust me, Aramis will have his hands full tonight," Porthos smirked. 

"We can't spend the whole night together,” said Athos flatly.

"Why not?" Porthos sat up. "We've shared beds before."

"Not like this."

"No, alright. Not like this," Porthos conceded. He frowned, Athos’ tone and body language finally registering with his sleep-fuddled brain. “What’s your reasoning then? That if we don’t actually physically sleep together you can pretend it never happened? Put it down to the wine? To heatstroke?”

Athos looked at him unhappily, hearing the note of bitter hurt in Porthos’ voice. “Look. We had a good time. I’m not denying that. But to think this could ever be any more than that – it’s madness.”

“All I’m suggesting is that you to come back to sleep,” Porthos said quietly. “Is staying here really worse than a long, dark walk back to a cold and empty bed?”

Athos still didn’t move, and he sighed. “Fine. Do as you please. But I’m staying put.” Porthos lay down again, pulling the bedclothes over himself grumpily despite the warmth of the night. 

He managed to keep his eyes firmly closed for all of five seconds before opening them again to find Athos still watching him helplessly.

Porthos reached out to him, resting his hand on the blanket. “Stay?” he coaxed.

Athos sighed, then to Porthos’ relief pinched out the candle again and climbed back onto the bed beside him.

The drifting smell of the snuffed wick mingled with that of the old smoke blackened beams above, and the warm, lingering scent of sex. Porthos snuggled up behind Athos, slipping an arm around his waist and settling down at his back. 

“Is this alright?” he asked quietly, unsure if Athos was only still here under sufferance. The thing he dreaded most would be to discover Athos regretted what they’d done. “Would you prefer we weren’t touching?”

“No – it’s okay,” Athos sighed. He turned onto his back, just able to make out the shape of Porthos beside him. “Just because I happen to think we shouldn’t be doing this at all, doesn’t mean I don’t like it,” he admitted. 

Porthos gave a throaty laugh and kissed him, surprised and pleased when Athos kissed him back without hesitation. 

They lay wrapped together for a long time, exchanging sleepy and intimate kisses in the darkness.

\--

When Porthos woke the next morning, he found himself alone. For a moment he lay there, hoping that Athos had simply stepped out to relieve himself but there was no sound of any movement nearby. Sitting up, Porthos saw that Athos’ clothes had gone, and so had his boots. He sighed.

Closing up the cabin carefully behind him, Porthos took a bearing on the sun and made his way back through the trees towards the river. It was still early and the ground underfoot was damp, but it was bright and fresh, and the birdsong lifted his mood. 

He’d intended to head straight back to the garrison, assuming that was where Athos had fled in search of sanctuary, but upon reaching the path something made him cut straight across and make his way down to the river.

Having reached the spot where they’d passed such a lazy afternoon, Porthos was briefly annoyed to find someone already there in the water until he recognised the pile of clothes on the bank.

Athos was out in the centre of the channel, swimming determinedly up and down and paying such little heed to his surroundings that Porthos suspected his arrival had gone unnoticed. After watching for a while he decided a wash wouldn’t go amiss himself, and stripped off his clothes, wading down into the water.

This finally caught Athos’ attention and he paused for a second, letting the current carry him down towards the bridge. Porthos gave him a hopeful half-wave, and was relieved when Athos nodded back and resumed his determined stroke. At least his presence wasn’t resented.

Feeling a lot cleaner and much more awake, Porthos was drying himself off on his shirt when Athos finally splashed out of the river and did the same. They dressed in silence, but afterwards, rather than immediately taking off towards the city as Porthos had half-suspected he would, Athos sat down on a fallen log and just looked at him.

Porthos sat down next to him. "I thought you'd left me," he said neutrally.

"Sorry. I needed some space to think." 

Porthos stared down at the water, unsure what to say. “Will you teach me?"

"To think?"

"To swim!" Porthos slapped him on the arm, laughing as he caught the slight smile and realising Athos was winding him up.

"You can't?" 

Porthos shook his head. "Never had occasion to learn."

"You grew up here in Paris didn't you?" Athos asked idly. "With all this on your doorstep, you never took advantage?"

Porthos' expression clouded slightly, and he didn't immediately answer. Athos picked up on his silence. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to speak out of turn. Your business is your own.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Porthos said slowly. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, actually. You and Aramis both. It’s just never really seemed like the right time.” He paused, staring back down into the flowing water, and Athos looked curiously at him, but didn’t interrupt.

“You’ve heard of the Court of Miracles?”

“Of course.”

Porthos chewed his lip for a second. “I grew up there,” he said finally, the words coming out in a rush, as if to get them over with. “An orphan. Every day was about survival. Didn’t really have much time for things like learning to swim,” he added with a thin smile.

“I’m sorry,” Athos said softly. “I didn’t know.”

“No reason you should. I don’t tend to broadcast it. People can be – funny about it, even now. Maybe especially now. Some people don’t like to see a man do well for himself. They think you should stay politely in poverty where you belong.”

He finally risked a look sideways at Athos, and was relieved to see no pity in his face. “You don’t mind?”

“Why should I mind?” Athos asked, confused.

“Like I say, some would. Plenty would. And – well, I don’t know where you come from – and I’m not asking for a confidence in return for a confidence, don’t think that,” Porthos added hastily, “but it’s pretty obvious your upbringing was a few notches up the scale from mine.”

“That’s a life I’ve left behind me,” said Athos carefully. “We’re Musketeers now, both of us. Equals. Always.”

Porthos looked at him properly then, and smiled. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

Athos smiled back at him. “If you thought I believed any different, you’d have tipped me into the river by now,” he pointed out, and Porthos roared with laughter.

“Too right,” he declared, adding; “so will you? Teach me to swim?”

“If you like.” Athos raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t just an excuse to get me out of my clothes again is it?” 

Porthos looked delighted. “No. But – would you mind? If it was? What’s all that thinking of yours lead you to decide?”

It was Athos’ turn to fall quiet. “What is it _you_ want?” he asked eventually. 

“You,” said Porthos promptly. “This isn’t just a passing fancy, Athos. I wouldn’t do that to you. I want this. You. All of it.”

“We would have to be unbelievably careful.”

“I know,” Porthos nodded soberly, then his head came up to stare. “Are you saying yes?”

“I suppose I’m not saying no.”

Porthos reached between them and took hold of Athos’ hand, cold from the river. “But are you saying yes?”

Athos finally gave him a reluctant smile. “Yes. Alright. Yes.” Porthos immediately leaned in and kissed him triumphantly, and Athos pushed him off again.

“And _that_ , is exactly the kind of thing we can’t ever do in public,” he exclaimed, looking around as if the early morning woods might have sprouted a multitude of watching eyes.

Porthos just grinned. Athos hadn’t let go of his hand. “And in private?” he asked.

“Do what you like in private,” Athos conceded, then groaned in surprise as Porthos pulled him bodily to his feet. “Now what? Where are we going?”

Porthos looked innocent. “Somewhere private, of course.”

\--


End file.
